


The charm of fishing

by Broadripple



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fishing Trip, M/M, Minnesota Wild, Pucking rare 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-30 14:49:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15098993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broadripple/pseuds/Broadripple
Summary: The charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable, a perpetual series of occasions for hope.John Buchan





	The charm of fishing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleeperservice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeperservice/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [sleeperservice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeperservice/pseuds/sleeperservice) in the [PuckingRare2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:** A summer fishing trip between two friends turns into something deeper.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope this is at least something like what you were looking for.
> 
> Thanks to Nadler for looking at this for me. I did make changes afterwards so any mistakes are my own.

Even this early, the sunlight was warm on Mikael’s face. Now that the engine was stopped it was quiet. There was not even a distant hum of a motor on the breeze, just soft noise as the waves lapped gently against the hull of the boat. But then, Mikko should know the quiet spots with good fishing among the islands.

Before he’d headed into the galley, Mikko had handed him a rod with a lure already attached.

Mikael already knew from previous trips which seat Mikko liked. One time he’d taken Mikko’s seat just to see how he would react, but Mikko hadn’t said a word about it. Mikael could tell he wasn’t happy, his ideas about how to treat guests warring with his desire for his favorite seat. Mikael had made up a reason to swap after a little while, but he’d never repeated the experiment. So, he cast into the water further along the stern of the boat and settled into one of the other seats. It wasn’t fun to tease Mikko about being an old man who was set in his ways if he didn’t rise to the bait.

Mikael didn’t know why they had to leave so damn early, maybe people did get competitive over fishing spots. He thought there seemed like plenty to choose from, but Mikko had pretty much dragged him onto the boat, without breakfast. Although maybe that was just  Mikko fucking with him and exaggerating his morning cheerfulness. Either way, he was glad when Mikko came out of the galley with hot coffee and a plate full of   _karjalanpiiraat_ and _pulla._

Mikko handed him his coffee and put the plate on an empty seat between them before looking into the water. He sorted through his box of lures,  putting two out on the side. Mikko looked intently at the water before making his final decision and attaching the lure to his line. Mikael couldn’t tell what the difference between the lures was but even he could see how elegantly Mikko cast his line. Maybe Mikko had gone to make coffee to avoid seeing how bad at it Mikael still was.

He’d started eating while he watched Mikko’s decision making over the lures, he’d seen him mess about with them for ages enough times.

“These are really good—” he gestured with half eaten pastry  in hand. The crust was crisp and the porridge in the middle was soft and savoury, just the way he liked them.

Mikko smiled. “Good, they are from a coffee place by the river. People told me they are the best _karjalanpiirakat_ in Turku.”

Mikael thought maybe that Mikko had got them specially for him. When Mikko still took one of the _pulla_ he was sure.

They hadn’t had much time to talk last night; it had been pretty late when he’d arrived  so while they ate, and drank their coffee, Mikael caught Mikko up on all his news.

After some time, the reel on his line started to move so Mikael quickly stood and picked his rod up. Lack of practise had made his hands clumsy on the reel. Mikko had stood too and was watching him try to remember the lessons from previous trips.  

“I might need a hand,” Mikael said. Better to ask for help than to disappoint Mikko by losing the fish.

Mikko laughed softly and then moved to stand close behind Mikael, his skilled hands guiding Mikael’s to the correct places. It was a little difficult to focus on the advice Mikko was whispering to him rather than how good his breath felt against his ear and the solid warmth of Mikko against his back.

Finally, they  pulled the fish out of the water, shining in the sunlight as the water dripped off it like a rain of diamonds. Mikko took it off the line and put an end to its flopping struggles and the desperate flap of its gills in the air. He opened the cool box and handed Mikael a bottle of Karhu, dripping ice water onto the deck.

“We need to make some room for your fish.”

“My fish? You did most of the work there.”

Mikko shrugged. “It was your line, so it’s your fish.” He baited Mikael’s line and helped him cast again before settling back in his seat and opening his own beer.

“I’ll add an assist to the scoreboard, but does that mean you are going to make me clean it?”

“No.” Mikko smiled at him. “I want to be able to eat this one,”

Mikael grinned and opened his beer. It was unusually hot for early June, already raising the forest fire risk alerts to a record high. It was worse than home this far south, still he should have known better then to wear a dark T-shirt. The sun was making the material uncomfortably hot, so he pulled it off  and threw it on one of the furthest away seats.

He noticed that Mikko looked deeply unimpressed, and he felt a flash of self-consciousness as he tried to remember if he’d taken his top off on any of their previous trips.  Maybe there was some weird onboard rule about not fishing topless; after all most of their previous trips had ended with Mikko showing off his sauna. It made sense when Mikko sighed and took a bottle of sunscreen out of one of the lockers.

“I want fresh cooked fish, not fresh cooked fisher.”

Mikael rolled his eyes but took the bottle and applied the sunscreen; he was still pale. With playing in Denmark, he hadn’t had a chance of much sun yet this year.

Once he had covered where he could reach, he asked “Get my back?”

Mikko left his rod, took the bottle and poured the sunscreen onto his hand and started to apply it to his shoulders before moving slowly down his back. Mikael had asked a friend to put sunscreen on him thousands of times, but it had never taken this long, never been so thorough, and never felt so good.

Mikko’s reel started to spin, interrupting Mikael before he had to say something about the apparently endless sunscreen application. Mikko’s sudden jump across the deck made the boat move which Mikael hoped covered his stumble into his seat.

His head was spinning from Mikko touching him like that, and he knew it was stupid, but sometimes when Mikko did stuff like that it made Mikael feel too much at once. It made Mikael feel like Mikko really cared, like it meant something to him too. The trouble was he was never sure what Mikko actually felt. Like, maybe  it just meant that Mikko thought skin cancer was a serious issue

Mikko did stuff a lot that Mikael wasn’t sure meant anything - not sure enough to ask anyway. Maybe he’d rather obsess over it in his head than be told that it was just Mikko in captain mode looking out for a younger Finn.  If he asked, well, that might make things weird between them.

Time passed, the minutes drifting into hours quickly despite the slowness of their actions, marked by fish into the cooler and beer out.  Once the fishes outnumbered the beers, the tides of their conversation drifted slowly back and forth like the seaweed on the rocks.

“It was good to see Saku in Denmark. He had dinner with us all. The boys loved it.”

Mikko nodded, “He enjoys retirement, but he’s not done with hockey.”

“He’s not the Koivu I wanted to see there most.”

“I had things to do. And I think maybe I am getting too old.”

“You aren’t too old,” Mikael protested. But Mikko shook his head, unconvinced.

“Did you get everything sorted, in Minnesota?” Mikael understood, with Zach injured, too,  someone needed to make sure everything was organized for Ryan.

“Yes, I found someone good to help Becky with the kids, and the neighbours are going to take turns with the grass. It won’t be quite right, I bet, but he’s going to have to deal with it. He’ll be back bitching about them not getting the lines in his lawn right by training camp.”

Mikael could easily imagine that, and he laughed, anticipating the complaining they were going to have to put up with.

“I’m glad. I still wish you’d been there, not the other Koivu and the wrong Mikko, “ he shuddered exaggeratedly about Rantanen. “Maybe then we wouldn’t have got the wrong result.” He bit his lip, “If I knew back then what the future held, I would have made sure I enjoyed it more when _we_ won.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself plenty back then, from what I remember, and I know you will win it again.”

“But if you are so sure that Worlds is for younger men, I’m never going to get to celebrate it with _you_ again, am I?”

The heat of the day became oppressive, even with the breeze off the water.  The air seemed to weigh on Mikael and he felt something in him spark, like everything was concentrating focused like sun through a discarded bottle making the forest burn. Forests burn, but they grow back.

Mikael moved across to sit next to Mikko “I have been waiting a long time. But when I put on the jersey with the C, I started to think ‘What would Mikko do?’ and I understood something.”

Mikko looked at him. “What did you understand?”

“The responsibility. And I know how you think, the stuff you feel you have to do as captain, like making sure Ryan is ok, and the stuff you won’t do, because you’re captain, like giving good quotes to the press. So I know that because you’re captain you’d never - I’ll make myself crazy if I don’t say it at least once.”

Mikael had seen this look on Mikko’s face before, years ago, when he’d come on deck to see Mikael sitting in his seat. The desire to say something warring with the rules Miko felt he should live by.  But unlike back then, it didn’t feel unhappy.

“I talked to Baxi, yesterday, said I was coming down here. Baxi tells me all about what a blast your friends are and how much he loves fishing with them. How come it’s just you and me every time we go fishing? I don’t think you are that worried they are going to mock me for how bad at it I am. “

Mikko wasn’t moving away wasn’t trying to move Mikael’s hand off his knee.

“Do you take that long to put sunscreen on all your friends?”

Mikko’s face flushed pink at Mikael calling him out on that.

“I’m not your rookie anymore, I’m old enough to know what I want.  And I want you.”

Mikael leaned in and kissed Mikko, hoping not to be pushed away.

Instead Mikko kissed him back and wrapped his arms around Mikael pulling him closer, warmer than the sun. Mikko might not have been able to say it out loud, but he was speaking very clearly now.

Distantly, over the blood rushing in his ears, Mikael heard the click of one of the reels signalling a fish on the line and he moved back, ready to check which rod they needed to look at.

“Forget it,” Mikko said. “I’ve already landed the best catch of the day.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive anything I have got wrong about the team, fishing, Mikael or Mikko. I tried my best.


End file.
